together
by kingofFevers
Summary: The most unlikely pair of twins you would ever meet, but that's all that's strange about them. Everything else is as normal as one should expect; that's what makes it all the more cruel. (Suicide attempt)


It's as if hospitals intended to keep a certain reputation.

Olivia felt stiff, even when no unfamiliar face was around. The quiet was awkward, in no sense of hilarity whatsoever. Even with the television on, it was set at the lowest volume possible, now only muffled noise background to everything else.

The wheezing of the mattress was the noisiest thing there was.

"Do you know what I'm sick of?" she said softy, out of nowhere to both siblings. It shocked her, but it would have come to no surprise. Silence was suffocating, unspoken words moreso. They needed to hear something other than the snickering of the demons in their heads. Aiden turned to her slightly, his hoarse voice unable to croak but a breath.

"I'm sick of this limbo. You know those days where you kind of just-" she shrugged, "exist? Like you've got things to do but you can't bring yourself to do it, and you're- passive aggressively? Looking for a way to end everything. Or- no, wanting to end everything. Peace seems so near but so far and only because you don't have it in you to do even that."

Her brother cleared his throat and finally got to let out words. "Yeah, I get that."

As if he didn't. As if Aiden wasn't wired to beeping machines and being detained, as if he didn't have a needle stuck in him to mitigate drugs with more drugs. 'If he were to write something about this,' she mused, thinking about the drafts he'd hesitantly asked her to proofread some time ago, 'he would call this room the epitome of a hopeless situation. Fighting fire with fire, wandering blindly in a maze.'

Even now, she refused to admit the fond feelings that began to give way.

"Liv?" She turned to his attention, "Liv, I-"

Still, so talented with paper, but he could only write what he wanted to say. Vocalisation, while a fun hobby, was never Aiden's forte.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed, "It's okay. I get it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Her brother coughed, and he lifted himself from his free hand. "I remember- I was so scared of having to grow up. Being an adult with more responsibilities and more problems, and still being like this? I thought it would suck hard, and-" he gasped and tried to blink tears out of existence, "And I was right. Everything hurts, it still hurts."

Aiden was always afraid of getting hurt.

He'd be cautious in the kitchen, didn't leave the house alone in fear of something happening. Needles terrified him and he sobbed into her shoulder when he was first admitted into the hospital and had a needle stuck in his hand. He never looked at it, breathed heavily in a panic whenever a doctor entered the room.

It had only been three weeks since their 34th birthday.

Three weeks since he worked up the courage to down all his pills and a bottle of alcohol at the same time.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" She continued for him, sitting closer to his legs at the center of the bed and letting herself face her comrade, "You finally get to a point where you could accept the unknown of death and the pain that comes with it. Working up the balls to make that one move… and it flops."

"And the consequences," he murmured.

They'd gotten used to opening up as they got older. If they were younger, if they were 7 or 16 or 24 years old, they wouldn't be speaking as they are now. They wouldn't be as open, as transparent. This was the closest they'd gotten so fat to sharing that "twin bond" that people kept talking about; when she knew exactly what he was talking about, has an inkling of what was going through his head and vice versa from him. It was still rough; she had to push through anxiety just to hold his hand and trust the voice in her head that reminded her that this was what he needed, that they'd established ground rules and triggers and strategies beforehand, and that they needed each other, because they couldn't hurt anybody else.

Aiden and Olivia knew each other because they spent their whole life together under the same roof.

They'd lost countless loved ones to their own demons. They drove them away, they became distant, they inflicted damage on everybody they interacted with.

If one were to put poison with poison in a dish, nothing would happen. They would remain together because they were each other, like and exact.

They were working through it.

"We're so old," Olivia said with a deprecating smile and empty humor in her voice, "Look at us. Thirty-four years old?"

"Remember how 30% of the depression subreddit's posts were like that?"

Their laughter was short and empty. "It's pitiful," is what they both thought.

She volunteered to stay over until he was released, against his objection. "If you want to, think about it like this," she told him just to get him to shut up, "I'd rather spend an eternity with you than having to spend another needless minute at work."

That did it.

(Fraternal twins spent another day in the stuffy hospital, thriving as best as they could in the quiet of their hell come to life. The ambience of the hospital was their radio, the background noise of clocks ticking and tiles being walked on and people murmuring and doors closing; they listened to it, to each other, to their heads and their unsteady heart beats.

Another day, another day older.)

The pills and alcohol left a strong effect on him, and recovery was a long process. The physical was obvious, the mental was a work-in-progress since the day he first needed a diagnosis to confirm their parents' worries.

Three weeks, she'd spent here, working from home to make up for the leaves she'd taken to be with Aiden. Little were the days they didn't spend around each other.

"I'm tired of this place, Liv," his voice was somber and quiet.

He was fifteen minutes younger than her. They looked nothing alike; if not their behavior, their attitude towards each other wouldn't have even hinted at their relation. They were twins in all but the typical trope, and their mere state of being nearly tore their family apart.

It broke them, but it ended up mending something that almost never existed.

"The hospital," hers was void of color, as well, "or being alive?"

She couldn't help the concern that rose to her chest.

"Both."

Brother and sister were quiet, but they were together.


End file.
